


5 Years Later

by Darkfeather21



Category: Saints Row
Genre: Depression, Drinking, PTSD (or something like that), death mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-31 16:01:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10902702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkfeather21/pseuds/Darkfeather21
Summary: Approximately five years after the end of Saints Row the Third, Nastasya continues to deal with the pain from sacrificing one of her best friends in the name of petty revenge.(Having never suffered from depression or anything approaching PTSD, I'm not sure how well I wrote this, but y'know... Google.)





	5 Years Later

Nastasya leaned over the edge of her patio and stared out into the lights of the city below. The normally bustling penthouse was completely empty, just like it had been the year before on this same date. It had taken only one hospitalization for the rest of the Saints to realize that it was in their best interest to stay away from Nastasya around this date.  
Five years ago today, Nastasya had made a stupid decision that haunted her to this day. Five years ago, she’d chosen petty revenge over the life of one of her best friends. Shaundi had been killed because Nastasya decided she couldn’t simply let Killbane go. Because she’d listened to Angel instead of Pierce.  
Pierce. He’d become the mayor after she declared Steelport a city-state, led the people during the ensuing war. The public saw him as a hero. Few today knew of the time when he was just a young thug running the streets, hanging with the Saints back in Stillwater.  
Pushing off the railing, Nastasya walked back inside the penthouse, pulled a beer from the minifridge underneath the couch, and popped the lid off with her thumb. She dropped onto the cushions and took a quick swig from the bottle, grimacing. Tasted like shit. Always did. Her preference was actually bourbon, but beer was much better than liquor tonight. Not as dangerous to her health.  
She and Pierce had entered a sort of courtship after Shaundi’s death, taking solace in her absence with each other. But it lasted only a few months before she broke everything off. Nastasya knew he blamed her for Shaundi’s death. She couldn’t take that kind of guilt on top of her own guilt. They hadn’t seen each other alone in years.  
Throwing the empty bottle across the room, Nastasya pulled out another one and took a swig.

~~~~~~

Oleg made his way up the stairs at a deliberately slow pace. A headset blinked away in his ear, the only source of light other than the dim emergency lights near the floor.  
“Seriously, Oleg. You don’t want to do this,” Kinzie said in his ear. “The Boss gets very violent this time of year.”  
“As opposed to any other point in the year?” Oleg replied with a half-smile. “Do not worry,” he added before Kinzie could reply. “I am more than capable of dealing with anything Nastasya can do to me.” Kinzie sighed audibly.  
“Just… Promise me you’ll be careful?” she asked, genuine concern leaking into her voice.  
“I promise, Myshka,” Oleg nodded. “But it’s been five years. Someone needs to help her.”

~~~~~~

Groping around for another beer, Nastasya came up empty and growled. She’d have to get another case from the big fridge downstairs.  
“Boss?”  
Nastasya sat up suddenly, her hand changing target from beer to gun, but also coming up empty. Oleg came into view from around that stupid statue in the middle of the room.  
“Пошёл на́ хуй!” she shouted, grabbing a bottle from the table and hurling it at him. The bottle bounced harmlessly off his massive form and rolled away.  
“Good to see you can still aim,” Oleg nodded, clearly undeterred by her violent outburst.  
“You’re lucky I cannot find my gun,” Nastasya growled, holding another bottle aloft and watching him as he settled into the armchair she’d had built specifically to accommodate his size.  
“That is also true,” Oleg said plainly, leaning on his knees and staring at the Boss intently. Nastasya stared back, bottle still upheld. They remained like this for almost ten minutes before her arm dropped.  
“The fuck do you want, Oleg?” Nastasya asked, putting the bottle on the table and settling into a more comfortable position.  
“I want you to talk to me,” the Russian giant answered with a soft tone. “It has been five years. Every year, you lock yourself in this room and spend a week doing nothing but drinking and staring off the edge of the building.”  
“So what? It’s my penthouse, I can do what I want with it,” Nastasya replied, never breaking his gaze.  
“This isn’t healthy, Nastasya,” Oleg shook his head. “Physically or mentally. So… Talk to me.”  
Nastasya’s lip curled in a sneer and she stood up. She started towards the other side of the couch, intending on getting more beer from the storage area, when Oleg raised his hand. She stopped and looked back to him.  
“Please, Nastasya.” He looked at her with a gaze that could only be described as begging. “You cannot keep doing this. Do you really think Shaundi would want this?”  
“SHAUNDI WOULD WANT TO BE ALIVE!” Nastasya shouted, scooping a bottle off the floor and hurling it at Oleg again, striking him in the head this time. The glass shattered, leaving bloody scratches along his scalp. He didn’t even flinch, which infuriated Nastasya.  
“AND SHE WOULD BE!” she shouted, throwing another bottle at him, which shattered against his chest. “IF I… IF I…” Another bottle, this time time only bouncing off again. Wet spots formed at the corners of her eyes. “If I…” Nastasya dropped to her knees, letting the last bottle roll away as tears slid down her cheeks and she choked out a sob.  
Oleg stood and walked over. Dropping to the ground next to Nastasya, the giant man gathered her into his embrace and held her close as she cried. She beat her fists on him as hard as possible, but eventually stopped and just buried her face into his chest as he stroked her hair slowly.  
“I killed her,” Nastasya said around sobs, reverting to Russian. “I couldn’t let revenge go, and it got my best friend killed.”  
“It was not your fault. You could not know that Kia was not bluffing,” Oleg replied softly in Russian, still stroking her hair. Nastasya babbled some more, but her sobs masked most of it, before she stopped talking all together. After a few moments, the sobs turned into soft snoring.

~~~~~

Nastasya awoke to find Oleg asleep on the floor next to the couch, where she laid with a blanket pulled over her. She looked at him with her head cocked to the side, remembering the previous night, then reached down and gripped his hand with her own.  
“Спасибо, Товарищ,” she murmured. Nastasya doubted this would be the end of her… Issues, but last night had helped. More than he would probably realize.


End file.
